


Sunflowers

by Vivelarenaissance



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha!Peter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Cute, F/M, Falling In Love, First Time, Flirting, Fluff, Light Dom/sub, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mild Smut, Older Man/Younger Woman, Teasing, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-07 15:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15910845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivelarenaissance/pseuds/Vivelarenaissance
Summary: A story in which Peter Hale falls for a cashier by the name of Rowan,She totally didn't win him over with her 1000 watt smile. Or eyes that shone like personal moons. Not even with her terrible puns and shy demeanor.Or at least that's what he claims.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> I basically couldn't sleep and was in the middle of season two of teen wolf. I was inspired by Peters new look and overall oddly more chill personality this time around.

He didn't quite understand Omegas. Or, at least, the human kind. They were unpredictable. But then again, everyone was predictable to an extent once you knew them long enough, it all depended on personality. Being a double alpha showed him just that.

Omegas seemed to latch on to him like bees to sugar water.

Except for one, who treated him like, and don't get him wrong he loved being a werewolf, but she treated him like a human. And it made him oddly comfortable in her presence.

Her name was Rowan.

Rowan;  
Popular Anglicized form of the Gaelic Ruadhán (little red-haired one).

She might not have been the owner of fire red locks, but the name stood in the flush that crawled from her ears, down her neck, blossomed across the bridge of her nose before eventually joining the scarlet hues together at the apples of her cheeks.

It lived on in the peachy red color staining her nails and coating her lips in the form of a sheer gloss. Possibly chapstick?

 

She was like something from a fairytale.

Dark hair, dark eyes, slightly tanned skin, full lips, and a petite frame.

She looked like an angel.

He felt like a pervert.

He didn't know why he was drawn to the innocence that radiated from her in pure waves. She was like a ray of sun that cut through the perpetual fog that shrouded the usually silent man. He wanted to watch her unravel. Hear her beg for him in that angelic lilt she possessed. Watch her come undone in a mess of incomprehensible babbling and hands gripping onto him to anchor her to reality.

She elicited reactions from him that often ended up causing the male to rethink his entire life and every decision he'd made leading up to each surreal second he'd been graced with the brunette beauty's presence.

Which is why he found himself going on a 'random' trip to the second-closest grocery store, standing in line behind a teeth-grindingly dull old woman who seemed to move with lead in her bones, on a Sunday morning, with a bag of chips, two packs of gum, a box of cookies, a sack of peaches, and a random red box that he'd overheard a clerk murmuring about having to punch the code in manually last week, in hand.

"Mister Hale?"

Peter snapped to attention at the sound of his name falling from rosebud pink lips, he briefly considered pretending he hadn't heard her if only to hear her call for him again, but the nagging three year old whose mother seemed stressed beyond belief that began throwing candy out of the basket compelled him to get a move on, so with a mental pep talk running through his head like gospel he decided to step up and pay.

"Are you alright?" She asked, doe gaze fixed on scanning each item and unknowingly showcasing long lashes that fluttered like a butterflies wings as she glanced back and forth.

"Yes, I'm quite fine. Just a bit... Distracted." He hummed out, willing her gaze to meet his.

The feeling of success thrummed in veins as dark brown irises met sea blue ones.

A fire fanned across her face as she took her time to punch in the serial number of the peaches. She could do it without looking. He didn't know if that revelation was due to his frequent visits or if she was just that damn great.

He leaned towards the latter.

"Distracted?" She murmured, the left corner of her bottom lip finding refuge between her teeth as she seemed to think. "By Doris? What, you finally found out she visits almost as often as you do? I could get you her number. I hear she's single," she joked. She had only started the light teasing about a month ago as opposed to the curt conversation she held on the best of days. Too afraid to speak freely in her work environment despite how friendly they were outside of work, in Peters eyes it was a sign that she was growing comfortable around him in a public space. The notion made him light up.

"You could tell? I just love the way that pale green cotton dress hugs her curves," He said, sparing a glance towards the elder in reference as she hobbled her way out of the store.

"Obviously," she snorted, scanning the chips before glancing down at the red box, a slightly puzzled look coming across her features. "All the men sit next to her at bingo, I hear she's pretty feisty. Some say she even goes as far as touching shoulders with the especially cute men."

The words were innocent enough, she seemed to have spoken them without thinking as she went through an index of the stock before finding the boxes number. It didn't fail to make his inner alpha preen, despite her shyness. Or maybe even, especially because of her shyness.

"Ah, so you think I'm an especially cute man?" He teased, grabbing his bag as she went through the routine of printing out his receipt.

"Fifteen sixty-seven, please." She murmured, gaze down as she put the money away. The tips of her ears were a bright red, a giveaway to her embarrassment.

He extended the money, crisp bills in his hand and change resting underneath the paper. She gently accepted the money, her hand subconsciously lingering in his palm as she retrieved the change.

With that he bid her a farewell before making his way out of the store.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The way I write is super weird. I'll have a general part in my head, and then build the story around that. I just dive in, no plot. I wing it.  
> Anyway, enjoy Chapter two!
> 
> Edit, I never explained why he didn't have her number saved. He and Rowan usually communicate in person or through the pack, so he doesn't hear from her on the phone too often. They've exchanged numbers but never really had a reason to call each other.

Another week, another trip to the grocery store, to Peter's dismay, the brunette who he'd come to easily pick out in a crowd was nowhere in sight. There was no use in staying, then. He didn't really buy anything just to buy it. He came solely because he enjoyed having a few minutes of Rowan's time.

As he slid into his car, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He raised a brow at the number plastered across the screen and with a shrug, answered it.

"Who is this and why do you have my number?" Peter was not known to go around throwing his number to anyone who asked, but the sound of the person on the other side of the line shuffling around seemed to give him a hint as he pulled out and onto the road.

"Is this Peter?" A voice that sounded like violins and peaches asked, voice just short of timid.

"Yes, Rowan?"

Although he couldn't see her, he could practically  _feel_ the girl perk up in excitement.

"Hi, I know this is probably last minute and all, but I wanted to call you and tell you that I wouldn't be coming into work today, so there's no reason to go if you haven't already."

"Who says I go to see you?" He said, his words nonchalant as he waited impatiently for the car ahead of him to get a move on. He wanted to chuckle at the sound of her groaning in embarrassment, but decided to keep up his act of indifference a bit longer.

"I-" She began, and he could practically see her face burn scarlet. "I just assumed, since you only come on Sundays, and I don't know," She rambled on. Admittedly, if it were anyone else, the Hale would've hung up the moment the babbling began, but he remained quiet as he allowed her to get her embarrassment out. It was like getting it out of your system,  or at least that's what he told himself later when he questioned why he didn't just cut her off or hang up. Once the girls words came to a lingering pause, Peter decided to speak up.

"I do come there to see you, you know?" He admitted, lips curved into a semblance of a smirk as the line went quiet.

"Oh." She said.

He nodded, though she couldn't see the affirmation.

"Where are you?" He decided to ask, breaking the silence and offering her something other than her own thoughts to focus on.

"Uh... Home. Why?" She inquired, followed by the sound of a dull thud.

The males brows furrowed in concern before soft curses met his ear.

"My goodness, is Rowan swearing?" He tsked, tilting his head, assuming she fell from her bed or something.

"I'm twenty-one, what did you expect, a saint?" She tsked back, though she knew that she was possibly more sheltered than even the most reserved of teens.

"And you're saying you aren't one?" He retorted, his mind momentarily clouded with the most ungodly of thoughts concerning the girl on the other line.

"I'm not!"

"Do you even know what anything besides Sesame Street is?"

"Yes!"

"Have you ever even watched porn?" He tossed, knowing that he was venturing into dangerous territory with the abrupt change of pace, but not minding in the least bit. He listened to the girl choke on her own spit for awhile before she provided an answer.

"Yes, I have." She said, and Peter wanted to nearly laugh at her words.

"With your eyes open, I mean. Not peeking through your hands." He said, smiling wolfishly as he pulled up to a stoplight.

"No..." She answered, before quickly defending herself. "But that's only because I'm usually... busy." She settled on. "And I don't hide behind my hands!"

If he was looking into a mirror he'd notice his pupils blow wide at her statement. Keeping his calm demeanor, he spoke evenly. "Are you saying you masturbate?"

"Don't say it like that, it sounds all... Technical." She grimaced.

He rolled his eyes, rephrasing the sentence. "So you're saying you touch yourself?"

"Yes." The word came in the form of a squeak, and Peter would've laughed if not for the fact that she was openly admitting that, and it sent his brain haywire.

"We're both adults, why are you embarrassed?" He teased. "Would it make you feel better if I told you that you're not the only person in the world to do it? Hell, even I do it." He offered. This elicited an odd reaction, it sounded somewhere between Rowan getting the air knocked out of her and coughing up a frog. "Are you alright?" He asked, concern evident in his tone.

"I'm fine!" The girl said, cutting him off with a laugh that he assumed was supposed to be nonchalant, but sounded more like she was in physical pain. "Just, I assumed you wouldn't need to,,, Because, you know." She said, and Peter pieced her meaning together rather quickly.

"You mean, you think that every time I get an itch, I get someone to scratch it?" He murmured, amused as he pulled up to her apartment complex, familiar with the way after picking her up when her car failed to start in the winter multiple times.

He climbed from his car and went up to the door marked 7B, knocking on it. The sound echoed through his phone, and soon he heard the sound of feet tapping against hardwood flooring.

"Well, yeah, I assume so. I mean- You're hot so I just imagine you tend to be able to get women fairly easy." She explained before murmuring a soft 'Be right back, someone's at the door' As she went to answer, phone pressed against her shoulder.

When sea blue met mocha brown, Peter couldn't help the twitch at the corners of his lips when her expressioned morphed from confusion, to recognition, and finally shy excitement. She stepped aside, wordlessly inviting the male into her home.

She was dressed fairly simply, with an oversized, flowy tank top that draped around mid thigh and he assumed shorts underneath, though the top was too long for him to be sure. Her hair was in it's naturally curled state, falling down her back in long and messy curls that made him think of a lions mane. She wore no makeup, and honestly, he couldn't get the thought of 'She's an angel,' out of his head.

 

She shifted from foot to foot awkwardly, closing the door behind her new guest before slowly turning to face him again.

"I have popcorn on in the microwave, if you want some? I was getting ready to watch Netflix." She offered. Peter could hear her heart pick up speed, and only then did he notice how close the two were. He could pick out multiple hues of brown in her eyes, all dark shades, but separate tones that made them seem even deeper if possible. He listened to her breathe, it came out paced, as if she was purposefully focusing on keeping it undetected. Her hands were fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, running along the material and worrying it between the pads of her fingers. The longer he stared the quicker her heart beat. She opened her mouth to speak, possibly tell him to stop making her feel so... seen. She'd often called him out on it and he often did it anyway. He couldn't help himself.

She was soft, like a rose petal, and strong, like the stem. Surely she must've known that he wasn't the only person to take notice. Before Jackson fell head over for the stubborn, and tough out-of-the-box beta, Allison Argent, he hung around her almost as much as Peter himself did. If he were to nuzzle into her neck, he'd probably smell lingering traces of the other alpha. Just like himself, Jackson was a werewolf alpha, and a human alpha. A rarity. He, Jackson, Derek and Scott were the only double alphas for  states around, it just so happened they lived in the same town and (sort of) got along.

He tilted his head curiously, slight anticipation building in his veins as she prepared to speak, but the moment was broken by the shrill beep of the microwave.

Rowan, grateful for the excuse to put distance between them no matter how hesitant she was to move, marched to the kitchen to dump the bag of warm deliciousness into a big blue bowl to accompany a saltier smelling miniature mountain of popcorn.

"Let me guess, kettle, and classic?" He assumed, the two familiar smells mingling to create a softer toned sweet smell, it reminded him of the way she smelled. Like cake, honey, and a hint of sea salt.

She nodded, the practice of guessing the mixture of the day something close to a tradition between the two, though it usually was at his house, seeing as that's where it began (His couch smells like popcorn to this day.) But it seemed she did it in her own time as well, the thought made a warm feeling settle into his chest as he followed her to her room, where the two made themselves comfortable on her bed. The alpha cocked his head to the side slightly as he noticed the pile of random items on her side of the bed consisting of what looked to be one of Jackson's flannels, A pillow that Lydia let her borrow, about three of Derek's henleys, a few of the clothes that Allison had forgotten over her house due to the many sleepovers they had, one of Scotts jerseys, and an armful of clothes that he assumed belonged to Stiles-What the hell was it with that kid and stripping?-with a lot of blankets and her own clothes.

What caught his attention the most was his dark red sweater positioned over her pillow.

She was nesting.

"Hey, Row," He muttered, calling her by the nickname he usually used when she was in a more fragile position such as having a bad day, missing the pack when they're gone too long, or being in heat. Though he's never experienced being around her in the latter.

She glanced up from the movie, brows raised in silent questioning as she gave him her full attention.

"Why do you have a nest?" He asked, poking at it. "And why does it smell so strongly like Stiles." He stated more so than actually asked because the answer was fairly obvious.

She settled back down to look at the movie playing on her laptop as she spoke.

"I got fired." She shrugged, though he could hear the way her breathing skipped. The alpha in him was slightly ticked that she'd look away while talking to him, but the rational part of him decided it was because when she spoke of things that upset her, she tended to brush it off.

"Want to talk about it?" Truth be told, Peter wasn't the best with emotions, he helped whenever he could, but he was by no means ready to become a personal Oprah. When it came to Rowan, however, he tried his best.

He blamed the ingestion of so many peaches for the sudden urge to want her to always be happy. It sickened him. He didn't quite see himself as a monster, but he wasn't one of  _those_ people. The ones who talked about feelings and said 'I love you' in the rain.

"No." She sighed.

She was telling the truth.

With a nod, he went back to watching the movie, accepting her answer.

That didn't mean he wasn't going to do something about it.


End file.
